


Cocoon

by sheafrotherdon



Series: A Farm in Iowa 'Verse [36]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: mcsmooch, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-03
Updated: 2007-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's nose is cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocoon

John's nose is cold.

October's still offering up a fair wash of heat every day, warming the world gold as the soy beans ripen and the last of the corn dries high-noon yellow in the fields. But night – night's turned crisp, as if the tumble from September to October snagged frost in its grasp, and with the windows open overnight their bedroom grows chilly by morning, sharp with the scents of fall.

John loves it, loves the way his face grows cold, loves the contrast with the cocoon of warmth he shares with Rodney beneath the covers. Sundays are best – Sundays like this they can linger, burrow, trust their son to sleep off a too-late Saturday bedtime while they huddle together, quilts and blankets heavy above them both. John loves the way Rodney snuffles as close as he can, face tucked into John's neck or his armpit, arms flung around him; loves the way Rodney drapes himself all over John without a modicum of shame; loves ducking his face beneath the covers and nosing at Rodney's hair, his temple, sometimes his cheek, making Rodney squirm and grumble, "noooooo, s'cold," – and he especially loves kissing him until he's half-awake.

Which is usually when Finn arrives, finds them smothered by blankets, flings back the sheets and lets in a blast of cold air. Rodney shrieks, mumbles that he's a hellion and a throwback and oh my god it's _cold_ , so cold, which makes Finn laugh maniacally, crawl in between them both, order Baffa to pull the blankets up, and wriggle until he's comfortably ensconced with warmth on all sides.

"Mmmmmph," Rodney whines as a little elbow jams right into his jaw.

"Shhh," John coaxes.

"Be shushing, Daddy," Finn stage-whispers, and seals the sentence with a sloppy forehead kiss.

"Mmmph," Rodney says again, but he sounds more amused than grumpy, and John reaches over to rest a hand on his hip.

"We sleeping now?" Finn asks, monkey shoved up under John's unshaven chin.

"We're sleeping now," John murmurs in agreement, kissing his son's hair, and they both drift off to the accompaniment of Rodney's whiffling snores.


End file.
